1989 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am Gta Coupe 2-dr/5.7 L - V-8 Small Block on 2040-cars

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Baseball team to dress like Trans Am, complete with screaming chicken

Come to think of it, the Screaming Chicken actually sounds like the name of a minor league baseball team. Well, it isn't, but the famous logo of the same name that graced the hood of the 1970s Pontiac Trans Am will at least be making it to a baseball uniform this summer. The Lansing Lugnuts, a Single-A affiliate of the Toronto Blue Jays, will be rocking these special uniforms to honor the late Burt Reynolds and his film Smokey and the Bandit. By default, it will also be honoring the car the movie made famous: the 1977 Trans Am painted black with gold trim and, of course, the screaming chicken on the hood. This is a pretty good history of the emblem. So why the Lugnuts and Burt Reynolds? Although he claimed to be born in Georgia for much of his career, he admitted in a 2015 autobiography that he was in fact born in Lansing, Mich. After a few years, his family settled in Florida. Not exactly hometown hero stuff, but minor league baseball promotions have been made of more tenuous connections. The Burt Reynolds tribute night will be July 20, and if you want to get a screaming chicken jersey for yourself (I mean, wouldn't they be perfect for a cars and coffee?), the game-used jerseys will be auctioned off for charity after the game.

Classic Pontiac Trans Am Firebird Super Duty 455 sells for nearly $90,000

Historically, the Pontiac Firebird Trans Am raised the performance levels a notch or two over a plain Firebird in the muscle car hierarchy of the Sixties. But the Super Duty 455 version of the Trans Am — that number represents the cubic inches of the hand-assembled V8 engine — moved the performance needle big time in 1974. So much so that a clean example of the machine sold recently on the Hagerty Marketplace auction site for $89,296. Advertised with just under 54,000 miles on the clock and having undergone a thorough restoration, the Buccaneer Red model was one of just 943 Pontiac Firebirds equipped with the Super Duty 455 package for the 1974 model year. That build had also been offered in 1973. The Hagerty listing drew more than 21,000 views and 39 bids. According to Hagerty's valuation report, a similar car would be worth $85,700 in good condition, and $103,000 if it was in ‘“concours condition.” The Super Duty motor borrowed technology from the lineÂ’s 366-cubic-inch NASCAR engine, and featured heavy-duty connecting rods and an entirely new block with a revised crankshaft and heads to deliver a claimed 310 horsepower. The Firebird that sold was indeed loaded, with a three-speed Hydra-matic transmission (which surely reduced its overall value), power locks and windows, AC, dual exhausts, heavy duty stabilizer bars all around, and a “custom Interior trimmed in Red perforated Morrokide vinyl upholstery.” The entry of PontiacÂ’s pony car in the U.S., facing off against the Mustang and Camaro, dates back to 1967, when it was offered with an inline six and optional V8. The first Trans Ams were introduced two years later, the name derived from a handling package. General Motors ceased production of new Pontiacs in 2002 owing to declining sales and losing stakes in the sports coupe market. The big 455-cid V-8 had disappeared years earlier.

This junkyard '91 Grand Am is as hooptie as it gets

I spend a lot of time in junkyards. A lot of time. With all this experience, I have learned to recognize a perfect hooptie when I see one, a car whose final owner got every last bit of use out of it when its value was hovering right about at scrap value. This 1991 Pontiac Grand Am that I spotted in a San Francisco Bay Area self-service wrecking yard a few days ago, from the final model year for the third-generation Grand Am, checks all the hooptie boxes just right. First of all, it's a low-option coupe with the wretched and unloved GM Iron Duke engine, a rattly, gnashy, thrashy 2.5-liter four-cylinder kludged together using off-the-shelf parts from the Pontiac 301-cubic-inch V8 during the darkest years of the Malaise Era and used in cars whose buyers just didn't care. Most of the paint has been burned off by 25 years of harsh California sun, but the car spent sufficient time in a damp, shady spot for lichens to build up here and there. There are skeletons-with-sombreros stencils sprayed here and there, plus a big moonshine-guzzling skeleton mural painted on the hood. Goodbye, property values! Still, someone felt some affection for this car, giving it the name "Good Ol' Snakey" and painting that name on the decklid. We can assume that the Iron Duke was a bit loose by this time, probably leaving a serpentine trail of blue smoke behind the car at all times. So, the combination of cheapness, ugliness, menace, and who-gives-a-damn functionality make this Grand Am an excellent example of a pure hooptie. Within a couple of months, it will be crushed, shredded, shipped out of the Port of Oakland, and reborn in China as refrigerators and Geely Emgrands. Somewhere in Northern California, though, a few of Ol' Smokey's friends will remember this car fondly.